The class set a new record: Every single kid held their headstand for a full two minutes.
Bax didn’t actually do headstands, because whenever he tried, he turned into a rock. He and Ms. Starr had figured out an alternative where he leaned backward over the seat of a chair, and got his head upside-down that way.
Two minutes was a long time, but when he came up, he had to admit that he felt better.
At three o’clock, Nory waited for her kittenball teammates at the front of the school. They were going to the candy store.
Only Paige showed up.
“Sorry,” said Paige. “It’s just us. The boys wouldn’t come.”
“Why not?”
“You know, the locker thing. With the rocks. Finn is upset, and Akari pretty much does what Finn does.”
They headed in the direction of the high school. Two blocks away, there was a little row of shops: a pizzeria, a newsstand, a stationery store, and a corner shop that had fruit and groceries and candy.
“Finn thought the rocks in the lockers were funny,” Nory said. “Why is he mad now?”
“He thought it was funny when it happened to Lacey. When he found out his own stuff was turned to stone—not so much. His phone turned into a rock, and his parents had told him they wouldn’t replace it if it got broken. His baseball cards were ruined, too, and the scarf his sister knitted.”
“Okay. But he knows I didn’t do it, right?” said Nory.
Paige’s eyes slid away. They reached the shop and stood outside the entrance. “I think so. But nothing like this happened until this year, when the Upside-Down Magic class was offered for the first time.”
“Don’t you believe me?” Nory asked.
Paige pressed the heels of her palms over her eyes. Then she dropped her hands. “I want to,” she said. “We all do. But somebody played that joke, and it wasn’t funny, and people are saying that if all of the UDM kids worked together, you could have managed it.”
“We could not have managed it!” Nory yelled.
“Then give me a better explanation!” Paige said.
Nory couldn’t.
Neither girl spoke. Nory tried not to scream, she was so frustrated. Finally, Paige went inside the store.
When she came back out, she silently handed Nory a chocolate bar, but she didn’t talk to her for the entire kittenball practice, when other people were around.
At tutoring the next day, Bax was glad to be able to tell Coach he’d done his fire homework. Twice.
“My aunt wouldn’t let me do it,” said Nory.
“My mom and I did it on Tuesday,” Bax said. His mom had lit an aromatherapy candle and he had studied the flame while she tried to get him to do yoga poses. “And my dad and I did it again last night.” They’d dimmed the lights and lit matches over the kitchen counter, cupping their hands around the flames to help them stay lit. Both nights had been surprisingly fun.
“All right, then,” said Coach. “Excellent. Now what you want to do is think of your spirit—the part of you that makes you you—as a flame. You want to keep it lit. Keep the flame alive. Protect it. If you work on that, then you’ll gradually learn to keep your spirit alert when you’re a rock.”
“I’ll try,” Bax said.
“I learned this technique when I studied reptile fluxing in college,” said Coach. “Reptiles are cold-blooded. Turtles and crocodiles are somewhat rocklike themselves, aren’t they? They spend a lot of time just sitting around. In a coldblooded body, it’s easy to lose track of your human flame. Reptile Fluxers learn this flame technique, so I figured it was worth a shot with you.”
Bax thought about the flame.
He thought about keeping it lit.
He thought about protecting it, inside his mind.
“Okay, flux!” yelled Coach.
Bax’s face dried up. That’s what it felt like. Then his legs folded in. Stiffness moved from his feet to his head, and a gluey thickness stilled his blood and breath.
But he held the flame, the flame that was his spirit.
He was doing it! He was a rock but he was still Bax!
“Did you see that?” Coach asked. “Amazing!”
“Is he still Bax?” Nory asked. “I mean, of course he’s Bax. But does he know he’s Bax?”
“Bax! Hello!” yelled Coach. “Can you hear us?”
Bax couldn’t answer. But he could hear.
It was amazing.
This had never, ever happened before.
He was Rock-Bax. He felt like rolling over and bouncing.
But he couldn’t.
He felt like singing.
But he couldn’t.
Okay. He still couldn’t do anything physical. But he could hear. And he could think.
“Hmmm. Another tricky part, huh? If he can hear us”—I can! thought Bax—“how would he let us know?” Coach sighed. “I’ll take him to the nurse’s office. Nory, you go back to class.”
Bax heard humming. Beautiful humming. He heard the faint crush of carpet fibers, and the creak of wood. Wonderful noises! Then grunting, awesome grunting, as Coach lifted Rock-Bax up and dropped him into the wheelbarrow. He could hear. He could hear!
Hallway sounds filtered in: the bang of lockers, the chatter of kids, the echo of footfalls.
“Happened again, hmm?” Rock-Bax heard a man say. It was Principal Gonzalez. Bax recognized the deep voice.
The wheelbarrow stopped moving. “Oh, we’re making progress!” Coach replied. “Fluxing more on purpose, less by accident. And he did his homework. I just don’t know if the new technique I taught him worked yet.”
Principal Gonzalez made a sound of displeasure. “Filling lockers with rocks is not the kind of progress I was hoping for.”
“That wasn’t Bax,” said Coach. “Fluxing doesn’t work that way.”
“His might.”
“He said it wasn’t him,” Coach persisted. “And I’m certainly not comfortable calling him a liar. Are you?”
“I suppose not.” The principal sighed. “But he’s not the happiest of boys, and he has this rock talent. There’s no question that whoever’s doing these pranks has upside-down magic. I’ve investigated every other possibility and can’t come up with anything.”
“Bax is a good kid,” said Coach. “He wouldn’t ruin all those coats and notebooks. Ms. Starr’s program is helping him. It’s helping all those kids.”
Coach started pushing the wheelbarrow again. As Bax was bumped down the hall, he focused on keeping his flame lit inside his rock shape. The flame was him. It was his mind and heart and sense of humor; it was his excitement at tigerball and the books by his bedside at night; it was the way he felt when he laughed or cried.
He was sad the principal suspected him, but nonetheless he felt a warm little stony glow. Coach believed in him. He really did.
Nurse Riley painted on the Burtlebox, and for the first time ever, Bax felt himself flux back into a boy. It felt good. Like getting out of a cramped car and being able to stretch your legs.
“Did you keep the flame, son?” asked Coach.
Bax nodded.
“Milestone! Oops. I mean, rock on! Oh, drat. For the love of seaweed, I mean—” Coach high-fived Bax.
“What did he do?” Nurse Riley’s eyebrows went up.
“Tell him, son!” Coach was beaming.
“I kept my human mind,” said Bax softly.
“What?” Nurse Riley clapped him on the back. “Get out. You did not,” he joked.
“I did,” said Bax.
“He did,” said Coach.
Nurse Riley jumped up and down. “The human mind! In a rock! You are so awesome, Bax. I couldn’t be happier.”
He held up a waiting hand and rushed into the back room. He returned with three tiny bottles of ginger ale. “We have this stuff to stop people from yakking if they’re nauseated,” he said.
Coach shook his head. “You should give plain yogurt to your yakkers, if you want my two cents. Plain yogurt and papa
ya.”
“Good to know,” Nurse Riley said. He handed out the ginger ale. “A toast. To Bax!”
“To Bax,” they cheered.
The tops of the bottles made hissing sounds as they came off.
Back in class, Nory waggled her eyebrows at Bax.
Bax got out his food diary and wrote ginger ale.
Nory waved at Bax while Ms. Starr was writing math problems on the board. “How did it go?”
Bax got out his ruler and pencil.
“Bax!” whispered Nory.
“What?”
“You know what!”
Bax made a face like, I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Ms. Starr was still writing problems on the board.
Nory fluxed into a kitten and leapt from her own chair to Bax’s desk. She put her Kitten-Nory face in his and opened her eyes wide.
“Okay, fine,” he whispered. “I did it. I kept my human mind.” His face broke out in a huge grin.
Kitten-Nory did a little kitten jig and then chased her tail in the center of Bax’s desk.
“Please keep human form during math class,” said Ms. Starr, without even turning around.
The next day, Nory ate lunch with Bax and Pepper. It was tacos. Nory had hers with extra cheese and tomatoes. Pepper had shredded lettuce. Bax had the works.
“So I was thinking after school we could all go for pizza and then to the kittenball game,” Nory told Pepper. “Coach says it’s a good idea for the UDM kids to go to school events. To cheer and show school spirit and all that. Be part of the community.”
Pepper hesitated.
“I’m going,” said Bax. He actually sounded cheery about it, Nory thought.
“We’re all going,” she told Pepper. “Even Sebastian, though he might have to wear his blindfold.”
“I can come for pizza, but not the game,” said Pepper softly.
“Family stuff?”
She shook her head. “I’d fierce the kittens. You know I can’t turn my magic off.”
Oh. Nory hadn’t thought of that. Pepper couldn’t go to farms, or aquariums, or kittenball games. Not now, and not ever, unless her upside-down magic got under control.
“I wish I could come,” said Pepper. “Cheer for me, ’kay?” She looked down at her plate and began eating as if there was nothing more to be said on the matter.
They ate tacos in silence for a minute, and then Nory looked up. Oh, zamboozle. There was Lacey Clench, talking to the kids from beginner kittenball. Her body went rigid.
“I hear Lacey’s telling people that if she gets the full fifty signatures, Principal Gonzalez will have to remove our program,” Pepper told Nory.
“When I was a rock,” Bax told them, “I heard the principal say he thought the pranks were done by a UDM student.”
Nory’s stomach twisted.
“Really?” asked Pepper. “If the principal is against our class, we’re doomed.”
Nory tried to look on the bright side. “I bet Lacey won’t get fifty signatures. There can’t be that many mean people at our school.”
“A ton of people with lockers in my row signed it,” Bax said.
“Could we steal the petition?” Nory asked. “Or could Marigold shrink it down to nothing?”
Pepper shook her head. “That’s not right. Also, they’d know it was us.”
“Then I’m going to do something, right now,” said Nory. She stood and walked over to the table where Lacey stood, holding the petition clutched against her chest. “Paige?” Nory said. “Akari? Finn?”
Paige’s eyes grew huge.
“Are you signing Lacey’s petition?” Nory asked.
Finn kicked at the floor and dropped his eyes.
Lacey waggled the petition at him. “Sign it now, if you want to join the others,” she said. “Or go off and be friends with the wonko. I don’t care. There are lots of other people I can ask. Sixth graders. Seventh graders!”
Nory felt the urge to flux. Maybe a skunkephant. Or a dritten. She could make that Lacey Clench run away in fear. She had done it before, and she could do it again.
But no.
Fluxing in the cafeteria had never solved any problems. She took a deep breath, the way Ms. Starr had taught her.
She did not flux.
Instead, she spoke loud and strong. “The kids in the Upside-Down Magic class are kids just like you, Lacey. We eat the same tacos, we drink the same chocolate milk, we have friends, we do homework, we play sports. Yeah, it’s not always easy to have us in school. I get that.”
“That mitten was scary,” said Akari.
“And Marigold shrank me!” said Lacey.
“Sure, but Flares have flaring accidents, and Flickers have flickering accidents, and Fluxers learning carnivores can be scary, too. The lockers have gone invisible before. The library caught fire. We’re just used to those things, because they happen all the time. We call a teacher, or use a fire extinguisher, and then we go on with our day.”
Lacey crossed her arms and scowled.
“Lacey,” Nory went on, “do you really and truly know, without a doubt, that my friends and I are to blame for turning the things in the lockers to stone?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have proof?”
“I don’t need to prove what everyone knows already, Nory Horace.”
“Lacey, I think you should leave Nory alone now,” said Paige. She got up from the table and stood beside Nory.
“I’m not bothering her,” said Lacey. “She’s bothering me.”
“Please. Just walk away,” said Paige. She took Nory’s hand and squeezed.
Akari got up.
Finn got up, too.
Nory’s heart swelled. She took in the faces of her kittenball friends, and looked around at Pepper and others, who were staring at them.
“We don’t have to fight, Lacey,” Nory said. “We can all be better, don’t you think?”
Lacey Clench rolled her eyes and stomped out of the cafeteria.
The UDM kids met up after school at the pizzeria by the corner store. All eight kids squeezed into one booth. They were squished, but together. They ordered pizza.
Nory was happy. She liked that she got to be next to Elliott, and he was being fun instead of secretive. He froze her lemonade into a slushie when the waiter wasn’t looking.
“Sebastian, scooch over,” said Marigold. She was squashed between Sebastian and Andres.
“Don’t scooch,” said Bax, who was on Sebastian’s other side. “You’re already poking me with the dog cone you’re wearing.”
Sebastian’s hand went to the white plastic cone around his head. It looked like one of the contraptions dogs wore when recovering from surgeries, because that’s exactly what it was. Nory knew because she’d read the price sticker, which Sebastian had forgotten to peel off. It read: DOG CONE, XXL, $7.99. PET VILLAGE.
Sebastian swung the cone around so his face could look at Bax. “It’s a head cone,” he said, “since I wear it around my head.”
Bax cocked his eyebrow. “Dogs wear them around their heads.”
“But I’m not a dog,” Sebastian said. He lifted his chin. “I’m a human.”
Nory turned to Sebastian. “Do you have to wear it while you eat?”
“Today’s my first day to try it,” Sebastian said. “I have to get used to it, like people do with glasses.”
“You don’t have to get used to glasses, actually,” Pepper said.
Sebastian twisted toward her. As he moved, his cone tipped over a shaker of Parmesan cheese.
“Pepper’s right,” Marigold said. She tapped her own ear. “You shouldn’t have to get used to it. With my hearing aid, I turn it on, and it works.”
Sebastian swung his head the other way to look at Marigold, since the cone didn’t allow him any peripheral vision. “My head cone is an experiment,” he said. “I’m working on my upside-down magic by thinking outside of the box, like Ms. Starr said.”
“Out of
the box and into the cone,” Bax said.
Sebastian whipped around, and his cone whacked Bax’s cheek.
“Ow,” Bax said. “Seriously, dude? You can’t just take it off for ten minutes?”
Sebastian exhaled. “The cone blocks sound waves that come in from the sides, so I don’t get distracted. Think of how a horse wears blinders so that he only focuses on what’s in front of him. This is the same thing, but with sound. If it works, I am thinking I could wear it in super-loud situations, instead of my blindfold.”
“Andres, since Sebastian won’t take off his cone, would you mind going up to the ceiling?” Marigold asked. “Then we can spread out, and you’ll be more comfortable, too.” Marigold was squashed between Sebastian and Andres, who was wearing a backpack of bricks and was held down by a web of bungee cords looped around his chair and threaded through the table legs.
Andres grabbed the napkin dispenser as if it might help weigh him down. “Go up to the ceiling in front of strangers? No way!”
“What are you going to do at the kittenball game?” Pepper asked. “The arena has bleacher seats.”
Andres paled. His gaze went far off, as if imagining himself floating above the slick, flat benches, his leash and his bungee cords dangling from him like streamers.
“We can get more bricks for his backpack,” Nory said. But she felt her stomach squeeze. She hadn’t really thought about Andres at the game.
“Then it’ll be too heavy for anyone to carry over there,” Andres said, shaking his head. “Maybe I should stay home.”
Nory’s heart sank.
“Sebastian?” Marigold said. “What about your head cone? Are you wearing that to the game?”
“I am committed to my head cone,” Sebastian said. “What don’t you understand about that?”
Elliott put down his pizza crust. “Nory, maybe all of us going to the kittenball game isn’t such a great plan.”
“No!” Nory cried. She clapped her hand over her mouth. She had never spoken so sharply to him before. “I mean … I mean …”
“The Sparkies are already out to get us,” Marigold said flatly. “If we show up with a dog cone—”
“Head cone!”
“—and bungee cords and bricks …” She ripped her napkin in half, then in half again. “It’s a nice idea, all of us sticking together, but something’s going to go wrong.”
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